


Interlude at Casey's

by settledownfrohike



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/settledownfrohike/pseuds/settledownfrohike
Summary: Prompt: Can you write something about Bill Scully Jr.?





	1. Chapter 1

Well, that had escalated quickly. 

A ‘casual’ drink with the Scully brothers at Casey’s had been something Mulder strenuously objected to but a recuperating Scully was a weakness of his, and with her “please Mulder”s and promises that it’d be on his turf, it’s on your way home anyway and they’d duck out early, she promised, he’d reluctantly caved. Apparently Charlie was eager to meet Mulder under presumedly innocent pretenses. Hmph. Sure. Still, he’d waltz in front of a literal firing squad for her if necessary, and he supposed a metaphorical one should be no different. Scully was vaguely aware of Bill’s hostility towards Mulder as of late, but promised that with their youngest brother’s presence, it would be tempered. She had been wrong. Uncharacteristically naive. Charlie actually was surprisingly, genuinely friendly and curious. Interacting with Bill had started off awkwardly, progressed to passive aggressive and finally, Scully’d had enough snide comments and thinly-veiled threats. He wasn’t sure if it was the second glass of merlot or her Irish temper that inspired it, but a glass of scotch to Bill’s face had ended the group interaction with her storming off to a solitary game of darts. Leaving Bill wet and huffing and Charlie bewildered. 

Mulder didn’t even bother with polite apologies, just shuffled clumsily after her out of the booth, Bill’s parting words mercifully drowned out by the juke box. He strolled up next her, hands in his pockets, barely suppressing an I-told-you-so. Firing squads aside, he didn’t *actually* have a death wish. Bless her, she actually looked a bit shocked. He could see the rage and betrayal coming off of her in waves, a violent, tangible mirage on the asphalt of an otherwise cool facade. With an index finger to her elbow he said her name, ready to offer up one of the many dry quips stored in his pocket in hopes of drawing her out of herself and lightening the mood. 

No such luck. 

Because when she looked up at him, the fury swirling with raw vulnerability evaporated all humor from his tongue. Underneath the incalescence, he could actually see an apology. Oh Scully. Awe and admiration swelled forcefully to the surface and without warning bubbled their way out from the cracks his wall of self preservation had suffered during her abduction, her cancer and now her defensive display. His words tumbled out unchecked and unplanned. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” 

For a half second he was afraid that it’d had come across as a ‘you’re cute when you’re mad’ type remark that was quickly going to be rewarded with a vehement slap or worse. What he’d mean was that he loved her. That her loyalty and fierce devotion to those she cared deeply for never ceased to humble him. And that he still couldn’t believe he was on the receiving end. She was luminous. She was an other-worldly kind of gorgeous. And he wasn’t worthy. Thank you. He thought. I am at your feet. 

But though the full depth of his words may have gotten lost in hasty admission, the real, unguarded message had gotten across. The glaciers hardening her gaze melted fully into salty pools threatening to spill over. She opened her mouth to speak but, true to form, the weight of the scenario started to become claustrophobic and his damnable fight or flight kicked in. 

Flight it was. 

He quickly silenced her with a grazed thumb to her cheek, pressed his lips to her forehead and in parting, whispered, “You’re perfect,” then ducked his face from further scrutiny and disappeared into the crowed of people he was suddenly sorely grateful for surrounding them. He could hear her calling his surname futilely. He prayed for a waiting cab. 

 

No such luck.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Mulder stepped out into the post holiday chill and proceeded to hike it home, to hell with the cab, he just needed to get out of here. He adjusted the collar of his over coat  to cover his neck. No need though, really, the flush of embarrassment that had flooded his cheeks was plenty enough to keep him warm. _Damnit! Stupid stupid stupid. What the hell were you thinking?! Great. Monday’s gonna be fu-_  
  


“Mr. Mulder? Wait!” The unfamiliar call stopped him just long enough for Charlie to catch up. Charlie stood just about Mulder’s height, with a well-trimmed goatee and shoulder length, thick strawberry blonde hair kept into a neat ponytail, and a set of very familiar crystal blue eyes. Professor, Mulder assumed. He’d been so busy answering Charlie’s enthusiastic questions earlier, he’d hadn’t gotten much time to learn about Scully’s youngest brother much.   
  


“Listen, sorry I-“ Mulder began.  
  


“No, no, it’s fine. Bill’s an ass. I just uh, wanted to apologize for my brother and assure you there’s no hard feelings. At least on my end.”  
  


Mulder would’ve been touched by the man’s offer had he not been in such a hurry to make his exit.   
  


“S’ok. Really. She’s his sister, I get it. I really do.” He extended a hand, hoping to bring the conversation to a close. “It was nice to meet you, maybe we can do it again some other time.” Charlie brought a hand out from his leather bomber and gave Mulder one firm shake. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to get Bill home, you take care.”  
  


Mulder nodded quickly and turned, attempting to resume his get away.   
  


“Mulder!!”  
 _  
_

_Damnit. Shit. Fuck._ _**  
** _

“Mulder wait!” He froze, unable to blow her off so publicly or pretend to not hear her. She strolled past Charlie on his way back into the bar, stopping only to squeeze his arm and kiss his cheek. She nodded something unintelligible, and Charlie made his departure with a quick hug.   
  


Scully trotted up next to him pulling her wool london fog tighter around her frame, tiny puffs of steam marking each warm breath as her gate became more and more purposeful.   
_  
_

_Here it comes._ _  
_

But it didn’t. Once she got to him, it was clear she hadn’t really thought much about what to say. Her eyes pleaded wth him, tiny lines of confusion marking her inner brow. Her irises flitted back and forth, searching his own for answers.   
  


“Mulder what are you doing? It’s freezing out here and its at least 3 miles to your place,” ah the old stand by. Substitute practicality for emotion.  Good ol Scully, maybe shed let him off the hook after all, “Come on, she shivered, “let’s get a cab.”  
 _  
_

_Let’s. Let us. *Us*_ _  
_

His heart thudded wildly in his chest, and somehow, somewhere he found his voice.  
  


“No.”  
  


“No?” She looked at him incredulously, clearly shocked and more than a little annoyed.  
  


“No, Scully. I—I think I’d like to keep walking.” Why was he saying this?   _Stop this, you idiot. He told himself. She’s right and you know it._  
  


And then the look. The chin scrunched and her eyes spat at him, “Suit yourself.”   
  


As she turned, the wiser part of his brain won over and he called to her “Wait! Wait. Shit. I’m sorry. Look, there’s another place, Mickey’s..uh…it’s just down here. Why don’t we duck in there for a bit.” He spoke to the cracks in the sidewalk, unable to meet her gaze.   
  


“Okay Mulder.” Her tone was weary.   
  


He nodded his head in the direction of the next stop.   
  


Mickey’s was quieter, darker, rougher. No crystal or uniform, just a middle aged man with a middle aged paunch and a middle aged hairline. Seated at the bar Mulder nodded to the bartender and held up a finger.   
  


“What’ll it be?”  
  


“Tequila. Two please.”  
  


“Mulder are you ok?” Nope. Not off the hook.   
  


“Yea, yea just…” he downed his shot and swiped at the remnants of lime stinging his bottom lip, chapped already from the cold, “shit. I’m sorry, Scully. For everything. I knew better than to–  
  


"Don’t, Mulder. Don’t you dare.” Her words carried a vague threat, but her voice trembled, just slightly enough for only him to notice, “shit,” she mimicked, “give me that.” She downed hers, forgoing any salt or lime without even so much as a grimace. She sucked in a breath, and then seemed to gaze into, or past the floor. A slow grin crept its way across her face and Mulder wasn’t sure whether to be elated or terrified, because she looked slightly hysterical. And then she giggled. Giggled. Hiccupy. Girlish even. 

His heart resumed its thudding.   
  


A small smile remained on the downslope of her delirium and she shook her head ruefully. “I’ve never considered myself a vain person Mulder,” she began, choosing her words, “Missy..” he held his breath at the mention of her late sisters name and he kicked himself for being grateful when she couldn’t elaborate. “I always placed my value in my intelligence, my hard work. My achievements were, and still are, my measuring stick, of sorts.” Mulder briefly considered a height comment and then thought better of it.

“When I was first diagnosed…” again the grin appeared..“you know what my first thought was?" 

He found himself unable to speak, but he shook his head, urging her to continue.   
  


"I thought…my hair. I’m going to lose my hair.” She shook her head and eyed her empty shot glass. Her voice sounded so far away. “So silly, really.”   
  


“Scully–” again she cut him off.  
  


“What you said tonight..” her fingers stroked the rim of the glass slowly, thoughtfully…and before he knew it she was gripping his tie and giving him an impossibly soft, slightly open-mouthed kiss, her tounge barely grazing his upper lip. God. So soft. So sweet, even with the bitter tang of tequila and red wine left on her tongue. His head began to swim and he could just barely feel the raspy moan leaving his throat. By the time could register what had happened enough to respond she’d started to pull away, but he caught her waist, fisting her coat possessively to pull her back in and cup her jaw gently, opening his mouth to hers to kiss her fully as well, just once. When they parted their foreheads met, a kind of kiss all its own. She chuffed.   
  


“Thank you Mulder. I…I needed to hear that tonight, more than you know.”  
  


Her name came out on the end of the breath he hadn’t known he was holding, "Scully-“ 

 

Her hand to his chest brought his eyes to hers. For the second time tonight they shimmered with fresh tears, and he felt his own eyes start to sting and throat begin to tighten.   
  


"Please take a cab home, Mulder. It’s cold out. I’ll see you on Monday.”   
  


With a palm to his cheek and an impossibly tender look on her face, she slid from the stool and out of the bar. It occurred to him finally that she’d never even taken off her coat. All Mulder could do was stare after her, dumbstruck. When he turned back toward the bar, it’s patron huffed, "What the hell are you grinning at?”   
  


Fin


End file.
